The culling
by pippinpiper
Summary: Meika Barwick, a homeless child with extraordinary powers, receives a letter inviting her to Hogwarts.
1. chapter 1

I hold a waxen letter in my hand, a bright blood red dab of wax adorning it, my hopes held within. I crack the letter, breaking the seal, and watch as small crimson flakes drift down to the floor, carried by a mysterious breeze. I bite my lip. With quivering fingers I unfold the flap, and see a neat, hand crafted letter beneath. I squint, i've never been strong at reading, and everything has been written in a thin slanting cursive.

 _"Dear Miss Barwick,_ _I am pleased to announce that you have been accepted into Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry. I look forward to your attendance. In the accompanying letter, you will find money enclosed that will allow you to buy all neccesary books, clothes, and equipment, as well as instructions as to how you shall arrive at the school, and directions on where you shall find the items neccesary to your schooling._

 _The best of luck to you in your journeys,_

 _Proffessor McGonnagall."_

I fold the letter carefully and rip open the next envelope excitedly. Images of dollar notes spilling onto the rough concrete floor flood my mind. I gut the package, and tip it onto the ground. A cascade of gold, silver, and bronze greets me. I look at it, confusion flashing across my face. _Surely this must be a fortune? Why would the school give me so much money?_

Then I read the next paper. It is a budget of how much I am able to spend where. While reading is not my strong point, maths is, and I soon realise that what I have been given here will barely succeed to cover my costs. Even assuming I buy everything in a second hand state, as suggested, I won't have enough cash to buy more than one set of uniform, and no extra clothes.

Surveying the room, I take stock of my situation. Cracked plaster with runs of rust, bare splintered wooden posts swollen with moisture, rough concrete floor littered with rocks and trash, windows that gape open like a cracked smile. I look at my bed, sad and lonely in the corner, made from a mattress filled with broken springs resembling sharp crags of rocks, and scratchy thin blankets.

 _This is my home, my life, but it is not my future. I need to leave this life of poverty behind for good._ _I need more money. I don't want to be seen as the poor homeless kid. I'm done with that._ I stand straighter, roll my shoulders back, and pretend that I can't see the scatty clothes strung over my body like a dead skin. I know what I need to do.


	2. Chapter 2

Left, right, left, right, back. An endless shifting pattern that keeps me alive. My eyes track the people around me, making sure that no one is tracing my steps. Left, right, I doge an oncoming woman and dart across the road. A yellow taxi screams past, honking like a wild demon. Left, I turn down a dark alley. Right, I take note of the trash littering the gap of nothingness between the buildings like confused confetti. Back, I arrive at my destination.

Green, flaking, sickly. Both the door in front of me, and the person sequestered behind it, fit this description. I knock. 1, break, 2 fast, break, 5 slow. The sliding visor groans open, and a pair of bloodshot eyes peek out from the gap.

"Ehhhh, it's you, girl. Ehhhh, come on in kiddy."

He opens the door and I slip in quietly.

"Ehh, you know where to go."

The old guard sounds just as creaky and desolate as the building we stand in, but I know that neither are what they appear.

I walk down the hallway, more confident now, shoulders back, head up, stepping on the balls of my feet like a warrior, not a mouse. I open the door at the end of the hallway, and there he is, the once past employer, and successful drug lord, diablo. Tattoos cover his face, twisting blackly over the landscape of his body. Scars cover his bruised knuckles, each one a seperate tale of pain. Cliched, but deadly, he stands before me, as archetyple of wrath as hell is of pain.

"I knew you'd come crawling back. What do you want?" Eyes narrow, back hunched, looming.

"One last job" I lick my lips "Paid in full, and enough to get me at least 10 grand"

"Deal, i'll get you your 10, but if you do this, you stay in the business or you die. Checkmate sister, you're the best player in this little game of mice, but youll never, ever, get out now. Walk out that door unscathed and penniless, or get the mark. Tick tock, the choice is yours."

Wordless, I bend down and remove what remains of a tattered pair of soiled trainers. Diablo smiles, gold teeth shining past his pale lips. He turns and strides through a door into a handsome room covered in fur rugs and a luxurious four poster bed. A fire burns in the grate, crackling with mirth and heated happiness. He reaches into a stand containing a fire poker, and a fire brand.

"You'll want to sit for this."

I comply, sitting slowly on a red velvet lounge. My hands ruffle the material idly as Diablo shoves the poker into the shimmering heart of the fire. Soundlessly, I watch as he straightens and pivots, his dark dull eyes pinned to my light shining ones. In one swift move he grabs my leg, twists, and holds the brand to the center of my heel. I gasp in wordless pain as the glowing metal burns a star shaped pattern into my flesh.

"Congratulations, you're one of us now, and you are going to steal _Starry night_ "


End file.
